


Of Loving And Losing (One Art)

by milkyway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is Not a Failwolf, Derek is Stiles' Anchor, Domestic Derek and Stiles, Dreams, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Mates, One Shot, One True Pairing, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkyway/pseuds/milkyway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The art of losing isn't hard to master... but, fortunately, neither is the art of loving.</p><p>Claudia visits Derek in a dream, and Derek comforts Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Loving And Losing (One Art)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Elizabeth Bishop's haunting "One Art" (featured after the story).

  
“Derek.”  
  
Her voice is how he remembers it: the honeyed contralto that could hold a classroom of teenagers enrapt with a single word.  
  
She’s standing in the clearing in a long aquamarine dress; her wavy dark brown hair flowing down to her shoulders. She twists a carnation in her had as she turns and looks at the werewolf with a wan smile.  
  
Derek shudders; he’s reminded instantly where his mate got his beautiful eyes from.  
  
“Mrs Stilinski,” Derek says haltingly.  
  
“Claudia, Derek, please.”  
  
She walks up to him, and touches him on the cheek, then brushes her hand across his forehead.  
  
“You’ve become such a fine young man,” she says, looking pleased.  
  
Derek blushes. He knows this is a dream, aware of the hyperreal azure sky, the icy glow of his T-shirt, the fact that his mate's dead mother is talking to him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  
  
“Um.”  
  
“I know you’re really asleep right now,” Claudia says nonchalantly, “and you know that, but we’re meeting for a reason.”  
  
She leans against a tree that has seemingly appeared from nowhere. Derek’s eyebrows arch up.  
  
“Ma’am… Claudia… I…”  
  
“Tell Stiles he doesn’t have to feel guilty,” she says. “If I appeared to him right now he’d just be upset.”  
  
“Guilty? About what?”  
  
“Today was the day. It’s been…”  
  
“Oh, God. Ten years.”  
  
Derek shivers. Stiles is always miserable on the anniversary of his mother’s death. Though his magic is mature now, and he’s endured possessions, visitations —actually seeing his mother intercede on his behalf once when Derek lay critically wounded in his arms— the sadness always hits the brunet like clockwork on the darkening November afternoon.  
  
The day when she slipped away.  
  
Except today.  
  
Today has been different. It was unusually warm, and work had finished early for both of them. They had lunch in a small bistro that had just opened on the other side of town, then spent a lazy time browsing in Stiles’s favourite bookshop. Afterward they took advantage of the beautiful weather and went for a walk in the forest. At the lake’s edge Derek flung off his clothes and morphed into wolf form and charged into the water. Stiles cursed when he came back and deliberately shook himself dry right in front of him. But before the brunet could protest, there was a naked human Derek on top of him, kissing, nipping, tugging at his shirt.  
  
There’s nothing like making out in the sun, beside the lake, beneath the trees…  
  
Later, after they had hurried home and made love furiously, lying spent and breathless on Derek’s chest, Stiles felt a lightness he hadn't felt in ages. It occurred to him why, as he interlocked his left hand casually with Derek’s even as the werewolf snored softly: in just a few months, both those hands would be wearing wedding bands.  
  
They’d been officially mated for five years already, living together for four, but there was an added gravitas to things ever since Stiles popped the question one windy afternoon on Big Sur, bending down dramatically on one knee, smiling broadly as he saw Derek’s expression change from confusion to surprise to unbounded delight.  
  
“I’m glad you’re getting married. I know you’re mates, and that’s what really matters, but… marriage… it’s special too. Especially for Stiles. John still wears his ring, even though, he doesn’t have to, and I’m happy if he needs to find someone for the rest of his life on this plane. But he’s my soulmate. He knows I’ll wait for him. I promised I’d fetch him one day.”  
  
“It just hadn’t occurred to me,” said Derek, shrugging. “But it was kind of awesome that Stiles asked me… I hope it can reinforce that he’s an equal partner… you know, my family, wolves, we just… my parents were married, but it was more for legal reasons, I mean, they’d been mated for years already…”  
  
“No need to explain, Derek,” said Claudia. “You forget I was best friends with your mother. And you were one of my favourite students. It’s been wonderful seeing you blossom. I watch, you know. Always.”  
  
Derek blushes again.  
  
“No, no,” Claudia is quick to add, “not intimate moments. It’s more like… where I am… you can zoom in, drop by almost, see how things are going. Even though the ones you love can’t see you, you can share in their happiness and their sorrows. That’s all it is, really, the fact that no-one is ever alone. Some of us… like you and Stiles… are lucky to have the odd dream, or vision.”  
  
“I don’t often have dreams like this,” says Derek, dropping down to his haunches. “I don’t think I even dream about my family… I had a nightmare about the fire once, and Stiles had to wake me up and calm me down…”  
  
“I’m intruding, I know,” says Claudia. “But when Stiles freaks out that he forgot it was the day of my death… tell him I’m glad. I don’t want him commemorating a sad day. I want him and John to remember my birthday, rather, my wedding anniversary. Stuff like that. Stiles doesn’t have to carry that any more. _The art of losing_ …”  
  
 _“… isn’t hard to master_ ,” Derek interjects. “I loved that poem.”  
  
“And you wrote one of the finest essays I’d ever seen a sixth-grader do. Way beyond your years. Elizabeth Bishop is highbrow. _So many things seem filled with the intent to be lost_ …”  
  
“ _That their loss is no disaster_.”  
  
“See? It’s no disaster. Stiles needs to know that. You cope with your loss better, it seems. Is it a wolf thing? By the way, I see your family often. Your mother and I go for long walks in the forest now and then. It turns out, Death really is a peaceful life with fewer constraints, that is all. And no taxes, which is great, and you can call on old friends and family whenever you want. Even the living, though they don’t really react well to that most of the time.”  
  
Claudia chuckles, and Derek can hear his mate’s goofy giggle echo across the clearing.  
  
“Of course I miss them,” says Derek, “but… yeah… I think with werewolves it’s more instinctual? Plus, I’ve been in therapy as you probably know. Yeah. The Big Bad Alpha’s in therapy. Best thing I ever did… after Stiles.”  
  
“Thank you for being there for my son,” Claudia says gently. “You’re going to be awake soon, and he’s going to be crying. But I need to tell you, Derek, you are a good, kind man and a legendary Alpha. Thank you for keeping Beacon Hills safe. Thank you for loving my son with all your heart and soul. You are a son to me too. Remember, you are very loved by many. Give this to Stiles.”  
  
Derek stifles a tear as he takes the carnation from Claudia, who turns around and walks into the woods, and is gone.  
  
When Derek wakes up, Stiles is sobbing softly into his pillow. Derek turns around, and pulls the brunet towards him, hugging him tight against his chest.  
  
"Wha... Der...?" Stiles murmurs as he surfaces.  
  
"'S okay," says the werewolf, gently wiping his mate's eyes from behind. Derek presses his face into Stiles's dark brown hair and kisses him gently. "You're safe. I'm here."  
  
"I forgot, Derek, I forgot..."  
  
"It's fine, Stiles. She wants you to be happy. She...she just told me. She brought... Oh my God, it's here...this..."  
  
Derek reaches for the carnation that's lying between them, and Stiles gasps as he passes it to him.  
  
Sties grabs it and presses it to his lips, and he smiles.  
  
"You don't have to be sad any more, my love. She's here. My family's here. They're just a different energy now."  
  
Stiles turns around, and presses himself as close to the werewolf as he can. The sky is lightening outside, indigo brightening to purple on the horizon. It will be a cold, clear morning, but they will stay in bed until ten, making slow love and cuddling and chatting and dozing.  
  
And Stiles knows now, more than anything, the art of LOVING isn't hard to master: there shall be...  
  
..no disaster.  
  
 **One Art**  
   
Elizabeth Bishop (1911 - 1979)

  
_The art of losing isn’t hard to master;_   
_so many things seem filled with the intent_   
_to be lost that their loss is no disaster._   
  
_Lose something every day. Accept the fluster_   
_of lost door keys, the hour badly spent._   
_The art of losing isn’t hard to master._   
  
_Then practice losing farther, losing faster:_   
_places, and names, and where it was you meant_   
_to travel. None of these will bring disaster._   
  
_I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or_   
_next-to-last, of three loved houses went._   
_The art of losing isn’t hard to master._   
  
_I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,_   
_some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent._   
_I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster._   
  
_—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture_   
_I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident_   
_the art of losing’s not too hard to master_   
_though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster._   
  



End file.
